Jim rose and said, "Mr. President, I nominate John Armstrong."

This was seconded by Ikey, and the President continued: "John Armstrong is nominated; all in favor will please say 'aye.'"

The "ayes" were overwhelming, and accompanied by such a clapping of hands that the President forgot to ask for the "noes."

When it was quiet again John found voice to say timidly, "I'm afraid I won't amount to much, but I am very much obliged and I'll try."

When Louise pinned a little silver key with a tiny bow of red, white, and blue ribbon on his coat no Knight of the Garter was ever prouder of his decoration.

The President announced that he had been told of a little girl who had to lie on her back for a year on account of some spinal trouble, and who had almost nothing to amuse her, so if anyone had sc.r.a.p-books or toys and would send them to her it would be helping.

John's eyes grew bright; here was something for him to do.

After this the meeting adjourned, the table and chairs were removed from the platform, a white curtain drawn, the room darkened, and the audience, such as did not take part, were treated to shadow pictures.

John, who had never seen any before, laughed till he cried at "Lord Ullin's Daughter" and "The Ballad of the Oysterman." This last was performed with particularly fine effect by Carl and Louise, and everybody knows how funny it is when well done.

John was carried home again very tired, but with a radiant face, eager to show his silver key. As the spring days grew warm and pleasant his wheeled chair was often seen on the sidewalk, or in the Hazeltines'

garden, where he liked to watch the games of tennis and croquet, drawing clever little caricatures of the players meanwhile. Somebody was always ready to wheel him about, and in the pleasure of young companionship he grew stronger, and his face lost much of its pathetic look.

About this time old Mr. Ford, whose eyes were growing dim, discovered that when the print of his paper was particularly fine a pair of strong young eyes were ready to lend their service. Sweet-tempered Ikey had always been willing enough to help when it occurred to him, but his thoughts were likely to be anywhere else than at home, so that the broadest hints were lost on him. Now, with the little key to remind him, he was oftener on the lookout for opportunities, and as the months pa.s.sed his grandfather was heard to say: "Isaac is a fine boy, only a little mischievous," and Mrs. Ford added: "Yes, he is really growing like his father."

The letters that found their way across the sea were not homesick in these days, and Ikey's mother ceased to worry about him.

In ways like these the silver keys did their work. Their owners did not forthwith turn into models of helpfulness and unselfishness; such things need time to grow, and this is exactly what they began to do.

Only little sprouts, hardly to be noticed at first, they gave promise of being st.u.r.dy plants some day.

CHAPTER XXI.

WORK AND PLAY.

Miss Brown sat in her accustomed place by the window, where the sun was pouring in in a springlike way, though it was only February. Her sitting-room wore a festive air; the curtains looked crisp and white as if they were just hung, the old mahogany shone with more than its ordinary l.u.s.tre, and on a table at her side stood a bowl filled with white carnations. She looked about her with happy eyes, for she had been away a month and had discovered that there was no place like home, after all.

From the pleasant room she turned to the window, and her glance went across the sunny street and rested on the Big Front Door.

It opened presently, as she rather expected, and Bess and Louise came out with their work-bags, and stood talking to Aunt Zelie, who followed them.

"Dear, dear, how those children are growing! It seems only yesterday that they broke my window and came to confess."

As she watched them Miss Brown thought, as she had so often before, what a happy home that was, and how much of its brightness found its way over to her!

"Come for us early this afternoon, Carl, for we want to go out to Uncle William's," said Bess to her brother, who had joined them and was carefully marking his aunt's height on the wall.

"You are not expecting me to grow any more, I suppose," said that lady, laughing.

"I simply wish to prove to you that I am two inches taller, so you can't lord it over me any longer, madam."

"I was under the impression that the lording came from quite a different quarter."

"That is a base slander; you know I am your humble slave, so take it back," and Carl gave her a hug that compelled her to cry for mercy.

"If you must embrace me, let it not be in public; what will the neighbors think?" she said, as he released her.

"They may think that I am very fond of you, and where is the harm?"

following her into the hall and closing the door.

Over at Miss Brown's a few minutes later five work-bags were being opened, their owners all talking at once as they took out their thimbles and needles.

Though nearly two years and a half had pa.s.sed since the day when the M.Ks. took their first lesson in knitting, the club still flourished, and after a month's holiday they were eager to begin the meetings again.

"We did hardly any work while you were gone, we were so afraid of making some mistake," said Louise, bringing her chair to Miss Brown's side.

"Uncle William's dreams ought to be sweet when he takes his nap under this; I believe Dora's stripe is the prettiest of all," and Bess held up her friend's work admiringly.

"Dora's stripes are always prettiest," said Elsie; "I wish I could do half so well."

"Aren't they absurd, Miss Brown, when it is only because daisies look particularly well on tan color?" said Dora, laughing.

"I think the skilful fingers have something to do with it, but I am proud of all the work."

"We have improved a little since we made the afghan for Aunt Sallie, haven't we?" remarked Constance.

"You have, indeed, but you were such dear little girls then, and now you are growing distressingly tall; I do not half like it." Miss Brown shook her head disapprovingly as she looked around the circle.

"I think it will be very nice to be grown up," said Elsie, who was already beginning to consider herself a young lady at fourteen.

"I'd much rather stay a little girl. I don't like growing up. Next year Carl is going away to school, and all our good times will be over," and Bess sighed as though the weight of years already rested on her shoulders.

"Well, we _are_ only little girls yet, so what is the use of worrying?" said Louise, who, though she was tallest of all, was more of a child than any of the others.

Dora was perhaps more changed than any of her friends. She was growing very sweet and womanly, and her manners were as simple and frank as ever. Her mother's feeble health brought her more care than fell to the share of most girls of her age, and this made her seem older than she really was.

This afternoon she seemed somewhat preoccupied and silent. When appealed to she answered as brightly as usual, but a thoughtful, anxious look came to her face when she turned to her work.

Miss Brown noticed it and wondered what was troubling her.

"Girls," exclaimed Bess, "suppose we give Uncle William a party when we finish the slumber robe--just our set, you know."

This suggestion met with enthusiastic approval, and was discussed with great glee till Louise announced the arrival of the boys.

On pleasant Sat.u.r.days they often dropped in about five o'clock, and when work was put up went with the girls for a walk, a custom which Aunt Zelie encouraged, for she liked to have her boys and girls together.

Carl came across the street, followed by Will and Aleck; Ikey, who was waiting at his gate, joined them; and a moment later Jim came hurrying round the corner.

"Let's show them the slumber robe," proposed Louise. So they were called in while Bess and Elsie spread their work over a chair.